


single dad!dirk/jake

by callmearcturus



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Jamfic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 21:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16940676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmearcturus/pseuds/callmearcturus
Summary: Backing up one of my tumblr-only jamfics before tumblr nukes itself.In which Jake English drops in unexpectedly to visit his old pal Jane, and runs into Jane's wider social circle, and takes a fancy to the tall bloke.





	single dad!dirk/jake

**Author's Note:**

> originally from tumblr, but given the state of affairs over there, time to back this up in a safe place

Jane had told you a million times that she’d given you a key to her house for a reason, that anytime you were in her area, you were welcome to come visit. At the time, it’d worried you; you’d always gotten the impression Jane fancied you, but were never sure. The last thing you wanted to do was take advantage of that. But giving someone a key to one’s abode and private sanctuary was not a decision made lightly, and Jane Crocker didn’t make _any_ decision lightly.

You’d given her a pester (or bother, on her end) to let her know you’d be coming around. Now, it’s a crisp morning in the outskirts of Seattle, the air fresh from the evening rain. From the front door of her house, you can hear the faint noise of livelihood going on inside, that distinctly vague feeling permeating. It’s been a long time since you’ve been in a home like Jane’s, you think.

You knock, and there’s no answer. The key bites into your fingers as you fortify your nerves and slide it into the door, unlocking it (oh dear, you’d sort of hoped that wouldn’t work?) and letting yourself in.

What’s the polite thing to do here? To quietly make yourself at home and not disturb anyone? Or announce yourself? The latter, most likely, but it just seems so rude to draw attention to yourself like that.

You’re still deliberating when a small child accosts you. He stands in the foyer, about half your height, in socks, shorts, and a faded red power ranger shirt, and stares at you with bright red eyes.

Your voice catches in your chest, coming out an awkward gulp. “Uhm. Hello?”

“Hey.” The boy crosses his arms and leans his shoulder on the wall. It’s such a portrait of forced aloofness, you nearly laugh.

“Is Janey here? I’m Jake, we were old pals in France, I was hoping to see her.”

“She’s doing business stuff upstairs. Board meeting.” His little nose scrunches up. “We’re supposed to occupy ourselves ‘til she’s done. Then I get brownies if’m quiet.”

You remember Jane’s legendary baking and confectionary work. “That’s good incentive to keep it down.” You look back over your shoulder, at the door. “Hm, maybe I should… come back later…?”

“You don’t want brownies? You gotta be shittin’ me.” The cool expression on the boy’s face pops like a soap bubble and he covers his mouth. “Don’t tell her I said that! I don’t get anything if I cuss.”

You hold up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

The boy nods, satisfied. “C'mon. I’m watchin’ Korra. You wanna drink? There’s lemonade an’ apple juice an’ gourmet sodas,” he tells you, pronouncing the “t” instead of dropping it like half his other consonants.

After your day and night of flying in, a drink sounds fucking amazing, honestly. You leave your shoes at the door and follow the boy to the living room, keeping your distance and waiting eagerly for Jane to show her face. You didn’t think Jane had children, and this one… frankly looks nothing like her, like they’d be from entirely different gene _oceans_ , let alone pools. Maybe adoption, though?

You have no clue, and you don’t want to ask. You accept a glass bottle of crystal clear cream soda and settle in to the other side of the sofa as you watch the adventures of the Avatar in what you think is companionable silence.

 

* * *

 

The boy’s named Dave, and you are mostly sure he’s not Janey’s. On one hand, he’s incredibly familiar with her big old house and her same thousand yard unimpressed stare. On the other, he calls her “Aunt Jane” and has a backpack full of coloring books and sketchbooks with him.

He’s sitting with his knees up, a pad of paper on his legs and a dozen colored pencils in his grasp, drawing as you watch the television. No, he’s almost certainly not Jane’s; she’d never abide that lack of posture.

Just as you come to this measured and carefully considered decision, the front door opens, and Dave’s body uncurls as he cranes his neck to peer down the hall. There is something birdlike to him and his locomotion.

“Sup, little man,” comes another voice.

“Sup, bro. You’re back early. Aunt Jane left me alone with a stranger.”

You sputter, going stiff on your side of the sofa. “I– But I’ve been waiting!”

The gent who walks in is the spitting image of the rascal at your side, but taller and older and as striking as a lightning storm. Dave’s *bro* leans in the entryway, two fingers hooked in a very unseasonable winter coat, slung rawkishly over his shoulder. Much closer to a lean crane against Dave’s downy little chickadee. “Yeah? For Jane?”

“Yeah. I invited him in for drinks and TV,” Dave says. “It’s good horse brutality.”

“Hospitality.”

“S'what I said,” Dave says cheerily, and you are certain you are missing a joke somewhere. “I’m pratically Aunt Jane’s butler, look at this.”

“Nice job.” The man says, nodding to Dave before he focuses on you. It’s a bit like being caught in a spotlight. “I’m Dirk. Friend of Jane’s.”

“Jake English. Classmate of Jane’s in France.”

Recognition flashes in Dirk’s eyes. “Oh the– yeah, I’ve heard of you.” You have no idea what reputation you might have among Janey’s friends, but clearly you *do* have one. “Welcome to the states. I can fetch Jane, hang on.”

“Fetch Jane for what?” comes yet another voice, softer and more familiar. Dirk turns enough to reach back, and put his arm around Jane’s shoulders, pulling her against his side with an intense sort of ease and comfort. It makes your ears go red just watching it. This Dirk fellow has very long arms, and Jane fits so nicely at his side. Perhaps they’re sweethearts? That would make this even more phenomenally awkward, christ.

“Crocker, you’ve been neglecting guests,” Dirk intones severely.

“I helped!” Dave says, sounding annoyed his contributions aren’t being acknowledged.

“Jake!” Jane covers her mouth with a hand. “How did– _when_ did you get here?”

“Four episodes ago,” Dave answers for you. “It’s cool, we’ve been chillin’ here. Jake’s never seen Avatar. Or, the good one, not the blue space furry movie.”

“Dave!” Jane says chidingly, and slips away from Dirk’s side. “I’m sorry, Jake, I was dealing with investors. How are you, it’s been ages since Toulouse!”

You rise up to meet her, accepting the hug she offers you. You’d forgotten how small she is, how she fits in your arms. You bend enough to kiss the top of her head. “I meant to surprise you, I’m sorry, Janey.”

“Well, you succeeded _there_ , buster.” She squeezes you tight before leaning back, giving you a dazzling smile. “We have to catch up. I was going to make dinner once my esteemed sous chef showed up,” and she nods back at Dirk, who’s still propping up the wall, watching you both quietly, “but, oh gosh, we should go out someplace nice. You need to tell me all about that dig you went on with the professor, I want to hear how you’ve been doing.”

That sounds a treat, but you can see Dirk take that as some kind of cue. He stalks forward and picks up Dave’s bag. “C'mon, pack up. You can marathon Korra back home.”

Dave’s lower lip juts out for a second before he sighs and flips his sketchbook closed. “Okay. Hey, what’s with the eskimo gear?”

“Inuit or indigenous Canadian, you brat,” Dirk shoots back. “Was fixing computer stuff. Server rooms are a fuckin’ icebox. Gotta bundle up or I’ll freeze my balls off.”

“Dirk, honestly,” Jane scolds. “And you don’t have to go. I don’t mind–”

“Nah,” Dirk says, shaking his head, helping Dave work his arms through the straps of his backpack. “Go out, catch up with your friend. We’ll see you later.” He offers you a handshake, and you take it; his hand’s calloused, his grip softer than you’d expect. “Nice meetin’ you, Jake.”

“Likewise. And thanks, Dave. For the company,” you say.

Dave blinks up at you and grins. There is a slight dimple in his cheeks. “Anytime.”

The two of them excuse themselves quietly, but not before bidding Jane farewell; Dave gives her a hug around the waist and Dirk bends to press a brisk kiss to her cheek. Jane smiles and makes the _mwah_ sound back at him, squeezing his bicep. It’s so intimate, you look away as they separate, biting your lip as you watch the two vanish down the hall, keeping your peace until the front door opens and shuts again in their wake.

Jane breathes out a big sigh and turns to you again. “Sorry about that. The Striders can be a bit of an ordeal first time. Especially Dave. How’d you fare with him?”

“Old friends?” you ask, trying not to seem nosy but unable to stifle your curiosity. Dirk and Jane seem _quite_ close, but he… doesn’t seem her type, but you only knew her for the one semester. “Or, is that bloke your…”

There’s a pause as Jane frowns at you, perplexed, before her eyes widen almost comically. “ _Dirk?_ Heavens, _no_ , oh no, don’t worry about that. Not that he’s not very–” She stops hard, clearing her throat. “No, I’m not exactly his _type_. But he’s a very good friend, and since I do so much work from my home office, I try to help him with Dave when I can. But _anyway_.” She takes your hand, smiling up at you, a perfect red cupid’s bow framing her grin. “Dinner?”

You shake yourself free of the lingering feeling that the _Striders_  have left in their wake. “Sounds capital.”

 

* * *

 

Finding a place outside the house to quietly work has taken some time. Seattle is a university town, after all, so the usual standbys aren’t suitable to your needs. Every tourist and devout follower of the sea witch flood the Starbuckses around the city, dividing the local hotspot fifty times over until its unusable, and there’s barely any seats besides. The less Brand Name establishments don’t fair much better, catering to all the stressed out college students who camp out in the comfiest seats for hours at a time.

And public libraries lacked the caffeine facilities you needed, obviously.

Instead, there was a diner across from one of the less-frequented public parks and within walking distance of the Egbert house. It was no trouble to drop Dave off to visit his friend John and abscond away to the diner, settling into a corner booth with  a late breakfast before getting to work. As long as you paid for your drink refills and tipped well, no one bothered you.

And, most importantly, there was wifi. It was a default router configuration with a password you guess on the third try, which was almost the same as an open hotspot. And no one seemed to care if you used it.

So, you had your regular spot, and even your regular waitress who didn’t even ask what you wanted, just put a glass of orange juice on the table with a plate of scrambled whites and brioche French toast.

Routine was good.

Of course, today, of all the gin joints in all the world, Jane’s hot spring fling walks into yours.

Or, not spring fling. Roxy had left you a wall of half-delirious pesters at four AM, letting you know to give Jane some space today since she “fuckin comPLETELY failed to getit on with that babe from her fancy frnech trip. *french.”

Poor Jane, though now the same guy is walking into your usual, and before you can look away he’s spotted you and starts waving. You nod back, unsure what the fuck else to do as Jake clearly bends to say something to the hostess.

A moment later, he’s standing over you, his smile so bold and wide, it gives him attractive little crinkles at the corners of this eyes. “Aloha, Mr. Strider, wasn’t it? Could I bother you again, sir, and take this seat?”

Beyond him, your waitress gives you a Look, seeming ready to drag this dude off the second you hesitate. And this is weird, yeah, but it’s not a _hardship_  to have breakfast with someone as easy on the eyes as Jake English. You wave to the seat opposite you. “Sure, go for it.”

“Thanks much!” He plops down across from you and takes an offered menu. “Janey wanted to do breakfast, but I felt awful for imposing on her for _another_  meal, especially since I made such a bally mess of it yesterday, dropping in like that like an unwanted kitten. She suggested this place, even mentioned you liked it!”

“Yeah,” you manage against the barage of his chatter. It’s maybe too early for this. You might need to forgo the OJ and get some coffee in you instead.

Also, _damn, Jane_ , you think sympathetically. The guy flew in from France or somewhere to see her, and she still strikes out? How had that fucking happened? You’re almost offended on Jane’s behalf.

“Anything you’d recommend?” Jake asks, looking at you over the menu. He has the greenest fucking eyes you’ve ever seen and dark, pretty lashes.

You look down at your hands, wishing you had something to focus on besides Jake. “It’s upscale diner fare, basically. The French toast is good, or the crabcake eggs benedict.”

“Oh, I’ve not had good eggs bennie in a dog’s age. I think I’ll try that one.”

So, you find yourself taking a meal with a guy who you have only met once, briefly, and heard about secondhand off and on for about two years. It’s distinctly weird, but Jake seems so oblivious to the tension in you, it almost helps you relax. If he doesn’t know how fucking awkward you are, that’s nearly the same thing as not being awkward at all.

“Yesterday you mentioned servers and whatnot,” Jake says once your drinks arrive. “You work with computers then?”

“I work with everything,” you reply honestly. “People always need networking and IT, so it’s pretty steady work, especially in this town.”

Jake leans his cheek on his fist, staring at you. “Oh, but not the only gig for you?”

Keeping your bank account flush enough to compensate for rent and food and utilities and whatever Dave might need takes a lot. “The _gig_ I’m doing changes weekly if not daily.” You pay your laptop, still safe in its sleeve. “Today, I’m doing QA and debugging for some software.”

“That’s incredible. You seem like a staggeringly intelligent fellow.”

“Thanks. It’s a living.” You gulp down some orange juice. “What about you? Jane only said you were working on an archeology major.”

“Still working on it!” Jake bites his lip. He’s rocking the same slightly bucked teeth Jane is. It’s as cute on him as on her, maybe moreso. “Oh, I should’ve finished already but I fear I’m very distractable. I might take a semester off, figure out where I want to finish out my degree. Maybe here if UW has a program?”

“Why?” You wince. “I mean, that’s a big upheaval. What about France?”

“Oh, I wasn’t in France. Brown, but I can’t stand the place. And I don’t have any friends in the area.”

“Well,” you say evenly, “Jane would probably like that. If you were here.”

“Do you reckon? It’d be swell to see her more. And I wouldn’t mind if… I mean, I don’t want to presume you’re available.”

Pin: dropped. “Available?”

“For, erm.” He fiddles with the straw in his drink. “Friendship, you know. It’s just that I certainly enjoyed meeting you, and Jane thinks the world of you, and your little brother was a delight too.”

Of course. For a moment there, you thought he was hitting on you. Reassured, you shrug. “He’s pretty okay,” you agree, in the same way you might say fire is pretty warm or water is pretty damp or Danielewski is pretty esoteric.

“He’s your brother then?” Jake asks, leaning forward on the table, looking interested.

“Yeah. But I’m his guardian. Have been for… six years. I was at UW before that. It’s a good place, though I don’t remember if they offer archeology.”

“I could change to something else if need be,” Jake says, casually careless. “What was your major?”

“Was philosophy and art.”

Jake’s eyebrows lift at your phrasing, and he lets that hover between you for a moment. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Anyway. He’s pretty great, and worth the oddjobbing around the city.”

The intensity of Jake’s bright green eyes dials down a little into something softer, and your face feels hot. “That’s really admirable. You seem like a top shelf gent, Strider.”

You don’t know what the hell to say to that. It’s nice to hear, even if its unnecessary; Dave’s worth it, regardless. Still, you nod and reach out to toy with the zipper of your laptop sleeve.

Food arrives, thank fucking god, and puts a stop to any more intense discussion, outside Jake offering you bites of his 'eggs bennie.’ You turn him down only because he’s offering said bite on his fork and you’re not sure he won’t just _feed_ it too you, and…

You’re starting to see how Jane struck out with this guy. He probably has no idea how fucking flirtatious he is. It’s kind of amazing. You wish he’d dial it down; the flush in your face is probably really goddamn obvious. Fuck knows you can feel it. It’s been something like five years since you’ve gotten attention from an attractive guy, let alone _gotten any_ , and you’re feeling it more than ever right now.

When you’re done and your plate’s cleared, you wipe down the table with a napkin and finally unpack your laptop. The faulty code you’ve got to figure out is right on the desktop, and you open it in your editor, taking in the sea of color-coded Courier text.

Jake watches you, smiling faintly. The heat in your cheeks deepens. Jesus fuck, he should come with a warning, with eyes like that. “I think if I’m quiet, I could hear the clockwork ticking away in your noggin.”

Who the fuck talks like this. “And is that likely?” you fire back, unable to resist. Then, realizing you don’t know this guy enough to be an asshole to him, you add quickly, “Shit, that was a joke. Sorry. I’m kind of preternaturally inclined to being a douchebag, I can’t help it.”

Jake laughs, bright and surprised. “It’s fine! And, well, I could be. There’s this bit from a movie I love, about how nice it is to find someone who can just enough friggin’ silence.”

“Didn’t figure you for a Tarantino fan.”

“Oh, I love him. But I’ve never met a movie I didn’t like, I don’t think.” He sips his drink, hot tea, some shitty lipton he’s put too much sugar in. “I’m not bothering you, am I?”

If you could narrow Jake English down to a single word, it’d be– well, the first would be _attractive_ , but the next would definitely be _distracting_. “I mean, I don’t mind the company.” At all. “But I do have work to do, so it’s probably going to be really boring. I got to get one of these debugs done by tonight, and I have to pick up Dave by six.”

There’s a definite flash of something in Jake’s face, the downward curve of his brows, the sadness in his smile. If you weren’t delirious from all the attention, you’d think it was regret. “Oh, I understand. I’m doing it again, aren’t I, just dropping in on people’s lives. I’ve really got to stop.”

“It’s fine,” you say fast. “I just…”

“No, I know. Needs must, and so on.” He opens his wallet and sorts through the money in the bill fold. There’s a lot of different currencies in there, but he eventually drops a cool hundred on the table.

“Whoa, hey,” you start.

Jake gives you a cutting look. “You said you’d be here for hours to come, right? Please, let me.” His grin is vibrant. “Next time’s your shout.”

“Next time,” you echo, watching him get up, downing the rest of his tea.

“Well, I…” There is a sheepish quality to the way he won’t quite meet your eyes now. “If I were to stick around, we could do this again, couldn’t we?”

“Yeah.” You might answer too quickly, but you can’t help it. “I’d like– I’d be cool with that, yeah.”

He beams at you. “That sure is some incentive. I might go make a pest of myself at the university then. See what programs are on offer.” One of his eyes shut. Wait. That’s a fucking wink. “I’ll see you around, Strider. Give my best to your little brother, and let him know I’m enjoying that animated job he was showing me.”

You nod a little numbly, and watch him wave at you three times as he makes his way out of the diner, just as swiftly and abruptly as he’d swept in.

… You think you _might_ know why Jane struck out, but you’re not sure. Too early to tell.

But. It’d be nice. Jake English and his roving eyes and keen interest. That idle fantasy carries you through the rest of your day.

**Author's Note:**

> if i ever set a story in a real city, it's chicago, austin, or seattle
> 
> i'm a hack
> 
> and now someone can get off my back about archiving this, _**mimsy**_


End file.
